Daily Word Count: 0
Cumulative Words Written: 59,414
Total Words Discarded: 14,500
Total Chapters Drafted: 24
Time Spent Writing Today: 0 hours
My weekly word count is in the toilet. I’m definitely finishing my last week under pressure to produce.
Regardless of how I put myself under pressure, I took much of yesterday off.
A long yoga session on letting go. Abbreviated brunch. Journaling. A nap. And a drive across Portugal’s White Plains to Castro Verde.
I didn’t know much about Portuguese history in advance of my visit. They were explorers. Slave traders. Merchants of the exotic Far East.
Crusaders created modern Portugal.
On the White Plains between Castro Verde and Ourique (though the exact location is disputed), outnumbered crusaders routed the Moors and drove them from Portugal. In reality, Portuguese forces likely attacked Muslim outposts across what is now the Beja district sometime around 25 July 1139.
Yesterday was also the Festa do Sao Pedro (Festival of Saint Peter). In truth, it is hard to keep track of Portuguese festivals. I’ve lost count of how many they’ve celebrated since I got here.
But with the Festa de Sao Pedro, I was in for an icky gastronomic surprise.
We agreed to meet Sebastiao and two of his friends at Casa do Alentejo, a fish restaurant in Castro Verde. I was eager for another round of Portuguese seafood and rice. Maybe some fresh langoustines.
I had no idea this was the dish of Festa de Sao Pedro.
Allow me to explain. I don’t eat things with the head on. EVER EVER EVER. When MTM orders a whole fish, he has to hide it behind condiments. I don’t want to see its dead eyeball while I’m eating. Picking up a whole dead fish, ripping it apart, and masticating it is NOT part of my culinary oeuvre.
How people are supposed to eat sardines.
But Sebastiao’s friends knew the owner of the restaurant. They called ahead and ordered THREE PLATTERS OF SARDINES. We had a couple of starters, but sardines were meant to be the sum total of our dinner. And it was meant as an honor.
This is why travel is essential.
Not wanting to offend, I cradled a sardine with my fork and dropped it on my plate. I tried to ignore its cloudy eyeball as I pushed back its skin and tore into the meat. Convinced I’d puke, I brought a sardine-laden fork to my mouth and shoved it in before I lost my nerve.
Under pressure, I chewed and chewed, awaiting a gastrointestinal apocalypse. When nothing happened, I swallowed.
Sardines are gorgeous.
We finished the night at a free concert by the ultimate Portuguese Queen cover band. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds.
The Google girl took us on a pitch dark jaunt along dirt roads. I killed a rabbit. We got lost, but Sarah and Jen saw the Milky Way, so I call it a win. We got home at almost 3am.
Two more days. To set aside distractions. Make words. And get my room ready to share.
Because MTM will be here on Monday!
To follow my residency at Buinho Creative Hub from the beginning, CLICK HERE and read forward.
4 Comments
Andra, as always my heart is with you. I am so very sorry for your loss and am relieved you took a little time to just be.
Thank you. I got one email yesterday and have read it probably a hundred times. I really haven’t wanted to be online, but I didn’t want to fail to acknowledge this sentiment, since you took the time to put it here. Have a good weekend.
Love the comment “This is why we must travel.” Leap out of the comfort zone. Hard for me, sometimes.
Discomfort is hard. So many people avoid it. One of the reasons America’s in the shape it’s in today.
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